Sweet Mornings That Follow
by Blossoms of Lilly
Summary: Drabbles about pairings and their...interesting mornings after. Spamano, Gerita, FrUK, UsUk, TurGree and a (spanish)butt load more ;) rated M for Lovino's mouth and maybe a little bit of smut later on if I get enough requests for certain pairings.
1. Spanish Pillow

**Just a bunch of random drabbles about my favorite pairings waking up the next morning. Enjoy and don't hesitate to give some feedback o3o**

…

_Alrighty, so first up is my by far favorite, Spamano!_

_There's not enough to say about the chemistry and passion that flows between these two, it's unconditional and runs deep with a strong past of hurt and heartbreak. Please enjoy and hopefully you love these two as much as I do :) _

_And just for kicks I've made the POV our darling Lovi~_

…

xXOXx

The blinding rays of Spanish sun shone displeasingly through thin curtains, sprawling its warmth and unwanted comfort over a certain sleeping Italian. It wasn't so much unwanted as it was unneeded to the dark slumber he was in moments prior. Lovino liked the sun, sure. But add harsh sunshine to sleep deprived eyes and you've made yourself an irritated young nation.

The windows were cracked open a tad, leaking fresh, crisp European air around the shaded room. He could hear the birds chirping, singing songs that pertained to nothing but calming the morning strollers, lulling the rising sun from its hiding. And he could smell the hint of bread; the flaky dough was probably just added to the huge ovens in a bakery nearby.

Prying open a hazel orb, the smaller man blinked the sluggish sleep from his eyes. His sight was blurred and threatening to succumb to the calming morning that surrounded him. He heaved a sigh, wrapping his slightly tanned arms around the firm, warm pillow that he definitely didn't cuddle every night.

And just as quickly, the Italian stiffened. Because he was sure that his pillow wasn't _firm_…and there was no way pillows could…_move_…

…right?

"Buenos dias amor~…"

Yup. And pillows surly didn't talk Spanish either.

Lovino felt a pair of full lips press to his forehead linger there a moment longer than was necessary. The light chirp was an accent he would never forget, nor would he want to ever forget. His eyes were the size of dinner plates as the night before slowly seeped into his memory, plus the evident pink blush kissing the Italian's cheeks didn't help give it away. Nope, not at all.

The light chuckle that came from his lover and vibrated through him was the thing that snapped Lovino out of his funk.

"C-Che cosa bastardo?" he mumbled quietly against the dark, tanned skin that seemed to almost glow in the morning light. He didn't hate the sun for that aspect…

"Nothing poco, nothing at all~… I just enjoy watching you wake up." The warm murmur caused Lovnio's heart to flutter unfairly. He forced his eyes to trail up Antonio's sculpted chest to meet two bright emeralds.

He earned an even brighter smile, "Good morning~."

"You said that already idiot."

"I know, but I've never said it with you like this so boss is taking his chance!"

"…bastard don't call yourself boss! It'll only go to your head, not that there's anything there anyway."

The older nation pouted and skillfully somehow freed one of his hands to pull at that one little curl.

"O-Oi…!" Lovino flinched pleasurably and swatted the hand away, "Not fair." He let his bottom lip jut out into a peeved scowl.

"Aw but LOVI you look just like one of mi little tomates-Ay! O-Okay, si no more pulling the curl…" he rubbed the spot of his head that the Italian had smacked. "Lo siento pequeno~." He smugly smirked, pulling the irritated bundle of South Italy so that he was flush atop his chest.

Lovino hissed painfully, a deep throbbing shot up his lower back, "C-Careful! Jeez..." he breathed, settling for an annoyed glare which disappeared once he saw the concern painted onto his lover's face.

"Where does it hurt Lovi?! I'll go make us some morning paella…or do you want a tomato? Are you even hungry? In that case, go back to slee-.." Antonio's babbling was silenced by Lovino's lips.

He pulled away after a moment of returned pecks, which then turned into a make out session. They didn't care it was the morning, or that they both had morning breath.

"I-It's fine…" Lovino answered after resting his head back onto Antonio's chest that was now rising and falling unevenly. "Since it's you it's bene."

Lovino swore he heard the other's heart flutter.

"Then I'm glad," Antonio smiled cheekily, running his fingers through auburn locks while his other hand trailed lazy patterns onto the nape of Lovino's back. "How about I go make us some breakfast," he drawled with a hint of excitement, "and then after…"

Lovino blinked, "After…?"

Antonio slyly snuck a hand below the covers and groped his Italian's ass gently.

A yelp and a smack was heard, as well as shuffling of some bed sheets as Antonio jumped down from the bed and walked to the doorway.

The Spaniard turned his tousled head to the side, "Don't miss me too long Mr. Carriedo~…" he winked and quickly escaped their bedroom before the pillow hit the wall in the hallway. Antonio only laughed lightly and whistled his way down their new apartment stairs to the kitchen.

Lovino on the other hand was blushing profusely, his face reaching a new record for how red it could get. "B-Bastard…not even putting clothes on."

A mental image of naked Antonio cooking him breakfast shut him up quickly.

Lovino couldn't control the beating of his heart as he plopped back onto their bed. And he couldn't help the tiny smile that inched at his lips that were slightly swollen from stolen kisses as he looked to the delicate white-gold band on his left finger lying there.

"But you're my bastard."

xXOXx

…

**HAHA oki doki, what started off as an innocent drabble turned into a morning after their wedding night…oh well! I still got to write my spamano :D and let's face it…they end up getting married. Until next time~ **


	2. Wine, Chocolates and Handcuffs?

**FrUk**

**.**

Wine.

That was the first thing that Arthur Kirkland, an esteemed Englishman and nation nonetheless, had smelt when he surfaced from his rock solid nap...

...or did he fall asleep?...Where was he again?

What time was it?

...And why the hell were his hands handcuffed behind his head?!

"B-Bloody hell..." the blonde groaned at the strong piercing headache that had also welcomed him to a slightly shaded room. The heavy maroon curtains were drawn tightly, keeping any and all morning light from cracking into the sweet smelling bedroom. He could pick up the hint of some candy...and flowers?

There was some kind of music playing somewhere, filtering off into the distance; maybe outside? It was light and airy, fluttering in through even the walls of the room.

The Brit blinked through his foggy bleariness and tugged at his arms once more. Yup. They were definitely handcuffed. It wasn't metal though; his wrists were rubbing against a soft material. His thin fingers accompanied by slim hands were stuck through the headboard's design and he furrowed his thick eyebrows.

And then it hit him; square in the chest.

Coughing lightly, Arthur twitched an annoyed green eye at the sight before him. Well, at least he'd found his culprit, and an empty bottle of Côté Tariquet, Côtes de Gascogne against his abdomen. He could still taste the fruity liquor on his pallet, a mix of other flavors that were too faint and unimportant to think about.

Francis-the frog, was currently wrapping his arms around the blonde's middle that was to this point, bare of any clothing. All the while keeping his hold on the damned wine he'd smelt when he woke up.

Seeing the bottle of wine, and the drunk-off-his-froggy-ass boyfriend, Arthur started putting the pieces together slowly. He sighed and an eyebrow joined his annoyed twitching eye. Obviously they'd eaten dinner, (he could make out a tray of unfinished foods on his bedside table), Francis had conned him into drinking alcohol (the bastard's wine accompanied by other liquors around the room) and to finish it off; leered him into his bed. That was the only explanation.

"Oi frog! Wha-nfghlnpfff.."

"Shhhh mon Angleterre...it's still night time," the Frenchman covered his lover's lips messily with his hand, cuddling his scraggly face into the soft skin of his partner.

"Uidnjjx..." Arthur muffled against the hand. Whipping his face to the side, since his hands were conveniently unavailable at the moment, he took in a breath. "Hell, choke me why don't you?! And I'll have you know, it's very much morning..." he seethed, scowling holes into the blonde mop of hair below him.

"Hm? Well then go back to sleep..." the other moaned displeasingly, letting the wine bottle drop from his hand and thud to the hardwoods below the bed.

He clenched his teeth, "Well I would if I could you ungrateful twat. N-Now untie my hands!"

Lazily sighing, Francis picked his head up to look at his partner, "So loud and noisy Angleterre, just ask me nicely~," the older chided, running a hand through his long blonde locks. He was so graceful even in this state, Arthur noted, his cheeks tinting against his will.

"S-Shut it, my arms just hurt."

This earned a quirked eyebrow and a sly smirk, "Alright amour...I'll untie you for a kiss."

Arthur stammered, shit. He tried to tug his arms again as if they'd miraculously unbend and averted his eyes, "Fine! Just untie me you pervert."

"Oh I'm a pervert now," the Frenchman mused, lifting his arms to undo the fabric from around his wrists. Now, this left the Brit in an awkward position, Francis's sculpted chest and abdomen were staring him right in the face. Jaw clenching, his breathing hitched as soft kisses trailed up his forearms, feather light lips ghosted themselves up to his wrists wistfully. "This might sound ridiculous cher, but, what if I said you were the one who wanted it like this?"

Deep green eyes widened as he slipped from the headboard's clutches, only to plop onto the silkened bed sheets. Francis moved languidly, as if enjoying Arthur's stupor.

"And what if I said..." the man bent down to hover over Arthur's figure half covered by the amazingly soft covers, "That this whole thing was your idea?"

Again, Arthur was shocked into silence.

"So quiet..." Francis pointed out with a sly twitch of his lips, "To think that quiet voice was screaming my name all night~." Something flickered in his eyes, something Arthur hadn't seen in quite some time.

"I-I was not!" The Brit defended feebly, his body feeling paralyzed under Francis's elongated shadow.

"Cher if you don't believe moi, surely you'd believe the neighbors?" the Frenchman blinked slowly, bending down to nip at Arthur's bottom lip. "Just ask them; I had at least un..." Francis pressed a chaste kiss to Arthur's slightly parted lips. "..deux..." Another kiss. "...trois," Kiss, "calls this morning about 'keeping it down'."

Arthur by this point was flustered enough to kill a horse. He was quiet a moment before glancing around the room. Francis's eyes watching his face the entire time longingly.

"This was my idea..?" He finally spoke, a decent blush rising to his cheeks. He eyed his pair of British boxers hanging from the ceiling fan.

How...

"Mhm~.." Francis dipped down to place an open mouthed kiss to Arthur's neck, sucking there lightly before pulling up, admiring the light rosy patch of skin. "I'll keep quiet under one condition." Arthur felt the whisper against his skin, raising goosebumps.

"Yes?" his voice was barely audible.

"We finish from where we left off last night." he stated simply, parting Arthur's legs slowly, "And this time, you won't forget."


End file.
